All She Asks of Him
by munkinette
Summary: Librarian Belle French has a couple of questions for herself, and one for the pawnbroker from across the street.


_Second part of my Rumbelle Secret Santa gift to the loveliest theoneandonlylittlebird!_  
 _Prompt: "All I ask of you"_

* * *

The double shift at the library proved to be considerably less tiring than Belle had feared. Unfortunately, it was also less eventful than she had hoped, which ultimately meant that she was failing spectacularly at her job.

Tonight, all museums and art galleries in Boston were hosting an open night event, complete with new exhibitions, free performances and complimentary glasses of mulled wine, a prequel of sorts to the holiday season. As the local librarian of Storybrooke, Maine, Belle French had considered this a good opportunity to organize an event of her own, and gently nudge the good citizens of the town in the direction of the library. To be frank, they weren't exceedingly literary, and it fell well within her responsibilities to change that.

"A Night of Fun and Read with Belle", she had called it. Which, in hindsight, was as terrible a name as was the whole debacle in itself. She had run her plan by Major Mills two weeks prior to the big day, taking great pains to make it abundantly clear that she did not expect the city hall to cover the extra hours she would put in. Regardless, the mayor had been less than enthusiastic about her idea, swiftly ushering Belle out the door with a dismissive wave and perfunctory smile.

Obstinately, Belle had printed out flyers and proceeded to spend the upcoming weeks distributing them across town. What she did not give away between the school, Granny's diner, park and nunnery, she had shoved into Leroy's arms after extracting his promise to hand them out for her.

The very last flyer she had slipped under the door of Mr. Gold's pawnshop. His was the only other shop on the street, and right across from her library. Belle thought the owner to be well-cultured and a fine connoisseur of good literature, judging from the collection of first editions displayed in the front window of his shop. It had always been a sharp reminder of just how poorly stocked her library was, and probably the reason why he hadn't set foot in the library in all the three years since she started working here. Belle thought it a shame that he was both the most handsome man in town and the most reclusive.

And so Belle spent her days reorganizing the shelves, hanging fairy lights and paying special attention to the children's section, occasionally falling asleep on one of the soft, comfortable armchairs there. Unbeknown, the big day - or rather night - arrived, but despite all anticipation and preparations, nobody came.

That wasn't surprising in itself. The library would see few patrons on a good day, mostly elementary school pupils looking to borrow a book on bird nesting, or the occasional engineer from the cannery, digging up old information on hydraulic pipes. Nobody ever came to borrow a novel, for instance, and that, Belle thought, was a crime by itself.

Nevertheless, she had dared to hope, because she had certainly expected more from herself. This was to be her breakthrough, the day Storybrooke would finally see the perks of a solid education. Considering the numbers she turned in, which amounted to a flat zero, she begged to differ. She didn't need to convince these people to visit the library. She needed to find another job that she wouldn't be a complete failure at.

Maybe that was the problem. She wasn't used to failure, and therefore she didn't know how to handle it. She had always put pressure on herself - be a good college student, graduate top of your class, travel the world, find a place to settle down, be the best librarian you could be, find Mr. Right. It seemed that the last two tasks she absolutely could not figure out.

Belle's eyes started to sting as she busied herself with boiling water for tea. The wind began to rattle the blinds outside, and she thought of the wasted last three years of her life. She'd come to Storybrooke with hopes of finding a sense of purpose and meaning, yet she was single at the glorious age of thirty, thousands of miles away from home, a lousy librarian in a town with horribly uncultured people, and she was currently having a breakdown.

At the precise moment that realization struck, the door to the library creaked open, and Belle swirled on her heels so fast that the teacup she was holding fell to the floor with a deafening sound reverberating through the halls. Nobody moved, not her, and certainly not the person standing in the doorway like a deer caught in the headlights.

It was Mr. Gold, Belle realized with a start. The light from the street filtered in and framed his silhouette, and Belle recognized his slender form, the longer hair and the crisp, dark suit. If not for that, the shadow of his cane on the tiles would have been enough to give him away.

Eventually he entered, skittishly, as if afraid that the dragon lurking inside the library would breathe fire on him. The thought made Belle want to laugh hysterically.

Mr. Gold gingerly closed the door behind him, but then he seemed at a loss on what to do next. "You... dropped your cup," he said lamely, and Belle saw him wince.

" _Yeah, because of you_ ," she thought sulkily. "It's fine," she sighed as she bent to pick up the cup and examine it. "It's just a little chipped. I- I have two left hands. That's me, that's Belle," she said, smiling self-deprecatingly. "Two left everythings."

If anything, Mr. Gold looked even more lost. "I... um, came for the library open night?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course!" Belle jumped, shaking her head and stepping into librarian mode. "Well, we have all the new collections right there, or I can bring you whichever book you'd like, the library will lend it to you for free for two weeks. There are also new library cards, if you're interested, and there was supposed to be a raffle but..." she trailed off breathlessly.

"Perusing would be more than fine," Gold said, clearing his throat. "Thank you, Ms. French." He pulled a chair closer to the shelves hosting the literature section, and took a seat, wincing when he straightened his right leg.

"I- I could make you a cup of tea, if you'd like? While you look?" Belle offered. "I was about to make some for me. I had coffee ready earlier but... Anyway, it's probably gone bitter by now. The cookies and candy should be fine, though," she said hesitantly, gesturing over her shoulder to the two large bowls, filled to the brim, awaiting on the front desk.

"Tea would be more than enough, thank you, Ms. French," Gold said politely.

"Great," she breathed. Belle busied herself with the tea things, peeking over to Gold who seemed intent on pulling out volumes at random, flipping through the pages before returning them to their exact place. Her fairy lights danced across his face and hands, making him look like a sorcerer busily stirring up potions in his den, his cane a magic wand by his side.

"Is there something in particular that you are looking for?" Belle asked as she brought the tea things over to a little table nearby. On a whim, she placed the chipped cup for herself on the tray.

"I, um, no, just browsing," Gold replied, clumsily putting back another book.

He seemed a little out of his depth, watching her as she poured their tea, certainly not looking the part of the always put together businessman that she had seen around town. For some strange reason, Belle felt the urge to put him at ease. She pulled a chair for herself next to his, but that only seemed to disquiet him further.

"So how is it that you decided to come by the library tonight?" Belle asked as she handled him his cup and took a sip of her own.

"No one came," Gold blurted before stopping himself, looking abashed. Belle felt her shoulders stiffen at the reminder, and forced herself to relax. Someone _did_ come, after all.

"I-," Gold continued, "I confess I have been stealing glances at your preparations for the past two weeks and... Well, it seemed a shame for such a good initiative to go unappreciated."

"That is very kind of you," Belle smiled. "And I do appreciate you visiting at the late hour. But it appears I am not the librarian that this city needs," she said, horrified when she felt her eyes go a little misty.

"Nonsense!" Gold reacted promptly, a note of panic in his voice that startled Belle. She smiled bitterly, unconvinced.

"Nobody enters my pawnshop either, Ms. French," Gold shrugged, fidgeting with his cup. "Must be the street location. Terribly bad for business."

At that Belle burst out a wet laugh. She took a sip of her cup and watched Gold over the rim as he studied her attentively. Poor man was probably terrified she would break down in front of him. She was quite afraid that she might, so she steered the discussion away from her troublesome ineptitude.

"I live in the apartment above the library... I see light in the back room of your shop sometimes. In the evenings, or late at night..."

"Ah... My ankle, too much of a bother on some days," Gold sighed, gesturing resignedly to his foot. "So I spend the night in the shop instead of driving home," he admitted.

"I'm sorry," Belle murmured.

"It's hardly your fault, Ms. French."

"I'm sorry that I haven't thought of coming by and keeping you company," she clarified, watching him closely.

Gold blinked. "I... You would... enjoy that?"

"I'm enjoying it now," Belle smiled.

"That's... reassuring to hear," he said, his own eyes crinkling at the corners. It was a very pleasant sight. Belle busied herself with unnecessarily straightening out a few of the tomes he'd moved, until the idea of what she wanted to ask him formed clearly in her mind.

"Mr. Gold?"

"Yes, Ms. French?"

"Why is it that I never see you having lunch at Granny's, or walking through the park? Or... socializing in any way?" Belle bit her lip, wondering if she had just crossed a line that he didn't want crossed.

Gold took his time in answering - intent instead on following her fingers as they stroked over book spines -, to the point that Belle thought she wouldn't get an answer at all.

"I suppose there's just so many times people show displeased to see you before you grow displeased of seeing them."

"Why would people dislike seeing you?" Belle frowned.

Gold smiled but, this time, Belle could tell it was a brittle thing. "Not all of us have the talent of making ourselves loved by everyone we meet. You don't know me, Ms. French. I am cold, sarcastic, strict and altogether unpleasant."

"Hardly so," Belle scoffed. "You...," she considered, "You've never visited my library before tonight. Not even once, in the three years since I've been here. Did you think that I, too, would be displeased to see you?"

"You couldn't possibly be the exception," Gold looked intently at her, his eyes suddenly haunted.

Belle could only stare at him, perplexed.

"I'm sorry, Ms. French," he added quickly. "I didn't mean to offend. You are, in fact, singular among this town's denizens."

"And how is that?" She asked.

"You read," Gold smirked, and Belle chuckled.

"You read, too," she chided.

"And you also make excellent tea," Gold added, pointing to his emptied cup.

"Well, that compliment I cannot return. Not yet, anyway..." Belle looked at him knowingly, and Gold's eyes widened.

The silence stretched between them, but not uncomfortable. Rather, it felt like time that they both needed in order for their worlds to realign to a new axis, one that had shifted slightly under the weight of honesty, cups of tea and old books.

"Perhaps..." Gold began, uncertainly.

"Yes, Mr. Gold?"

He cleared his throat. "I might have - completely unintentionally - noticed that you take your lunch breaks at noon. Coincidentally, I do also."

"How convenient that you do," Belle agreed teasingly.

"Why, are you mocking me, Ms. French?" Gold narrowed his eyes at her, but Belle could see delight there also, his gaze serene, the corners of his mouth that had turned up. It felt good. _This_ felt good, comfortable and warm. His smiling eyes, sitting at a table with him in the middle of the night, surrounded by books, talking about nothing in particular, it all felt like something that she wouldn't mind living more often. So Belle steered her courage, and blurted the last thing she would have expected to say.

"I was actually thinking what a coincidence it is that we both like to read at night, before we sleep. You do like to read before bed, don't you, Mr. Gold?"

"I... do, yes," Gold nodded, confused.

"And are you not, by any chance, currently reading 'Pride and Prejudice', and have paused at page 209, to be precise?"

"That is extremely accurate, Ms. French," he chuckled.

"Well, I _am_ the town librarian, Mr. Gold. I'm supposed to be accurate about these things." She tried to say it in all seriousness, but her sparkling eyes and wide smile gave her away. She was delighted that she could still make jokes about her job, when not long ago the mere thought of it caused her nothing but pain.

Gold's eyes were smiling too, dark and warm in the soft light, and she decided that yes, she rather liked his eyes very much.

"Perhaps we should go find out what Ms. Bennet thought of Mr. Darcy's letter, then?" Belle asked a little breathlessly.

"I- I would like that. Very much," Gold rasped.

"Good," Belle nodded.

Still, neither of them moved. The silence stretched, and Belle was relieved to realize that he was leaving this entirely up to her. She could take his hand and walk to her apartment, and he would follow. She could ask him to leave, and he would do so in an instance.

She absolutely did not want him to leave.

"I need to close up the library, it will only be a moment," Belle said as she hurried to the front doors, heart in her throat. She flipped the sign to closed, turned the lock and turned off the lights with two soft clicks. The fairy lights stayed on, and it was in their soft light that she saw Gold get up from his chair and hesitantly turn around to face her, taking her in as if he wasn't entirely certain that she was real. So clearly she could see the emotions warring on his face - bewilderment, joy, fear, hope -, that she realized each of his feelings mirrored one of her own.

Belle took the few steps between them, stopping just short of touching him. Either it had gotten very warm inside the library, or she was getting extremely nervous all of a sudden. She inclined for the latter, considering the large flock of butterflies currently residing in her stomach.

"I- I meant what I said earlier. About reading... We wouldn't be doing anything else. I don't want you to think..." she trailed off.

"That I'm cheated out of all the 'fun' in the 'fun and read' experience?" Gold asked in mock hurt, and Belle punched him softly in the chest, laughing.

"Yeah, I know, the flyers were terrible. I don't know what I was thinking," she blushed.

"You know what _I_ am thinking right now, Ms. French?" Belle shook her head. "I'm thinking that there can be no better way to spend my evening than in your company, making you a cup of tea and reading with you," Gold said in all seriousness. "Trust me, Ms. French. It is more than enough," he added warmly.

"I'm glad," Belle smiled. "One more thing though. If after tonight you decide to not visit the library again for another three years, I swear to God..."

Gold shook his head. "Rest assured, Ms. French," he said a little abashed. "Nothing could keep me away," he added truthfully.

"Good," Belle beamed.

"It's a deal," Gold nodded solemnly.

When Belle slipped her arm around Gold's waist and he gently leaned on her to climb the steps towards her apartment, his soft hair brushing the side of her face, his breath warm and steady next to her ear, Belle felt for the first time in three years that there might be a meaning to where life had taken her after all.

"You know, some people in town owe me a substantial amount of rent. I could persuade them to pay a visit to the library tomorrow, on accounts of cutting your open night short."

An outraged "You cannot bully people into reading!" and an ashamed "Yes, Ms. French." could be heard from the landing.

"Tempting, though."


End file.
